


No Fairytale Bliss

by HonestMistake



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Avoiding Scandals, Interfering Astrals, M/M, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, drunk wedding, royalty in disguise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-11-04 06:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonestMistake/pseuds/HonestMistake
Summary: Once the "truth" comes out, that he and King Noctis Lucis Caelum have been seeing each other in secret since they first started school together and their sudden wedding was an act of an undying love they can no longer deny, it's described by the papers as a real life Cinderella story. The charming tale of Prompto Argentum a commoner who stole the heart of the King, but the real truth is a lot more complicated and messy than that.Okay maybe they just got sloshed and married on a whim so it's not that complicated.It's still pretty messy though, because now they have to pretend to be madly in love so Noctis doesn't become the laughingstock of Eos. He also has to try and avoid all those pratfalls of royal life Cinderella never warned him about. Like what happens when you forget the name of a foreign dignitary or you accidentally spill red wine on one of your bodyguards. Or how to deal with letting go of things like freedom and privacy and the ability to not cause a panic when he goes for an early morning run. Then there's the sudden reappearance of his adoptive parents in his life and if that's not enough he might also be a little bit in love with his new husband.Yeah Cinderella never prepared him for this.





	1. Panic, Denial, and Acceptance

"I want to ride my chocobo all day!" 

The peppy whistling tune pulls Prompto out of the dark abyss of slumber and less than half awake he hums along even as he reaches blindly for his phone to turn off his alarm. His hand touches the surprisingly smooth end table and after a minute of fruitless blind reaching his fingers wrap around a familiar worn plastic cover. He yawns and opens his eyes sliding his thumb across the screen to turn off the phone so no one can call him in. His mind wakes up enough for it to dawn on him that he is not looking at his end table. He's looking at a tasteful black and silver modern masterpiece that puts his obnoxiously bright yellow hand-me-down end table to shame and it suddenly dawns on him that this is not his room. 

His room is a tiny one room apartment with a communal bathroom that isn't even on the same floor. It's furnished with bargain bin, thrift store furniture all showing some form of wear and tear, to the holes in the upholstery of the futon to the scuff marks on the table. His carpet, usually hidden beneath a mess of clothes and other odds and ends, might have once been beige but time and abuse has rendered it a dingy grey that no amount of cleaners can tame. The walls of his room are a faded blue that is at least seventy nine percent covered by photographs held up with pushpins, tape, and hope, and his futon when folded down into a bed is covered in whatever comforters and sheet sets he can buy on sale.

This room is an interior designers wet dream. It's as stylish and modern as the end table, the black, grey, and silver theming carried throughout and highlighted by splashes of bright white. The walls are a cool grey decorated with tasteful modern art and a white line art mural of the city as seen from above. The bed is huge, big enough that you could be a light sleeper and sleep next to someone who thrashes in their sleep without even knowing it. The bedspread and carpet are a rich black that in no way looks dingy or faded. The sheets are smooth and silky against the bare skin of his legs and arms. The light fixtures are all minimalist silver hanging chandeliers and the furniture is clearly part of a collection. But everything in the room pales in comparison to the large wall of windows that overlooks Insomnia. 

He's not one for interior shots but damn does he need his camera right now. 

He slips from the unfairly soft sheets his toes sinking into the thick warm carpet. He barely notices how cold he is once he's out of the protective shell of blankets too distracted by the growing orange and reds of the sunrise peaking out from behind the skyscrapers and the Citadel standing tall and imposing shining bright in the dawn. His stomach flips as he stops in front of the window his hand reaching out and pressing against the glass with a musical ting. The noise pulls his gaze to his hand to the ornate black ring tastefully decorated with tiny diamonds that sits on his ring finger. 

The sight of the ring draws him back into reality like a bucket of cold water over his head as the emptiness where his memories should be hits him like a semi truck filled with vodka and fruity flan shots. He'd gone out drinking, he can remember that much and apparently drunk Prompto had made some very big decisions that should have been left to sober Prompto. Some really big decisions of the major life altering variety if that ring is what he is beginning to suspect it is. Sitting on his finger it looks a lot like it could be a last minute stand in for a wedding band, even though it's not like any wedding ring he's ever seen before.

A groan drags his attention back to the bed and he's drawn to the source of the sound. His feet tracking soundlessly through the thick carpeting as he creeps toward the outline of a body shifting beneath the blankets. He stops when he get's close his eyes drawn to the thick sheet of paper half hidden under a phone and the words holy matrimony in large impossible to miss fancy script. 

Drunk Prompto really has some explaining to do. He holds out his arm and looks at the ring lurking there on his finger again. It's his wedding ring and just knowing that is enough to make it feel like it holds the weight of the world.

The man rolls over muttering nonsense under his breath, the noise and motion drawing Prompto out of himself and back to his original goal. He reaches for the comforter and pulls it back just far enough to free the man's face. His heart shudders to a stop as he takes in the features of the man he'd gone home with, the black hair, the fair skin, the curve of his lips. He knows that face, he's drawn everything from a mustache, scars, funny hats, big glasses, and even an eyepatch on it out of boredom multiple times. He's seen it almost every day on the television and on the money in the till, that's the face of Noctis Lucis Caelum the reigning King of Lucis.

He's through the door before he has time to think, his feet taking him to the end of the hall and he crashes through the first door he sees. His back hits the door as it closes and he feels his heart race in his chest beating painfully as his brain spits out white noise that he's pretty sure is just the word fuck being repeated over and over again. He's dreaming, he has to be, no one just wakes up married to royalty after a bender. That kind of thing doesn't happen, not to a broke barista whose biggest dream is a tie between becoming a professional photographer and getting to ride a chocobo.

He pinches his arm, the bright burst of pain screaming out that this is real. He really is married to someone with money who looks an awful lot like the King in an apartment he couldn't even afford if he sold everything he owned and a few vital organs. There's a lot to freak out over. He's got enough freaking out material to last a lifetime. His chest heaves as he tries to calm himself down and wrestle his blinding panic down into a small package on the back burner of his mind where he can deal with it later. 

When he finds himself again he's grateful to see he's in a bathroom, it's much nicer than the ones he's used to. Apparently the silver, grey, and black theme echoes through the rest of the place. All the fixtures are silver and everything from the toilet, which he uses when his bladder reminds him that he drank himself stupid last night, to the tub and sink is black marble that shines. He washes his hands in the sink the water turning on automatically like it did in the cafe bathrooms and there's even an automatic soap dispenser that shoots out a sweet smelling foam. He takes too long drying his hands on a towel that feels soft enough to make a baby chocobo jealous. 

The tub is installed right up against another giant window that overlooks the city. He somehow finds his way into it either drawn to the appeal of a suitable hiding place or the spectacular view, his mind can't be bothered to tell him which. The shock of cold against his mostly bare skin helps to draw him out of himself enough to think as he lies sprawled out quite comfortably in a space that is probably big enough for two people at least. 

There's no way he's actually married to King Noctis, if he was they'd be in the Citadel for one and this place while head and shoulders above any place he could ever afford is definitely not the Citadel. Even if he hadn't seen the Citadel on the horizon he's seen the inside of it in shows and documentaries, he knows the style of it, and this is too sleek and modern. It has none of the gilded edges, famous paintings, and ornate decor that screams house of the King. On the positive side that means he's not married to the King. He's also surprisingly not hungover which considering the amount of alcohol he put down last night is a miracle.

A thump followed by a shuffling sound that would sound perfectly at home in one of those late night b movies about the zombie apocalypse he watches when he can't get to sleep draws his attention back to the door. That must be his husband, his very hot, very rich, very out of his league husband. Suddenly he very much wants to flow down the drain like water and escape back down to ground level where he's safe and single and life makes sense.

"Damn, Ignis is really gonna kill me now." The voice of his new husband is soft and disappointed but it sends lightning crawling up and down Prompto's spine.

The voice is one he knows, he knows it even better than he knows the face. It's the reason he works the early morning shifts at Ebony Cafe, the reason he enjoys getting out of bed before noon, the reason he can put on a smile even when dealing with the most difficult of assholes, it's the voice of Shades his favorite customer. He sounds nothing like the King does on tv, his voice isn't nearly as strong, or noble, or composed. He sounds like Shades on an early morning coffee run after a late night and it would be so much more pleasant to hear if he wasn't sitting in the man's bathtub after freaking out like a really unlucky rom com protagonist. 

Still it sends a cool flood of relief through his entire body his muscles going lax as the tension flows out of him like he's had a nice long soak in a hot bath. He's not married to a total stranger or to Lucian royalty. Shades might be a bit mysterious but he knows him and now he can understand why he's always wearing the ball cap and shades combo that earned him one of the worlds most uncreative nicknames. He looks just like the King and that must be a pain, having to hide his face just because he looks like someone famous.

"Prompto? You still here?" Shades' voice rings through the apartment partially distorted by a yawn.

"In the bathroom, I'll be out in a moment." Prompto says as he scrambles out of the tub and through the door, looking like a mad chocobo chasing greens. He lifts a hand and smiles nerves making it too wide and toothy. "Heyaz."

"Hey." Shades lifted his hand and with it their marriage license to return the gesture. He waves it at Prompto the gold ink on the thick paper catching in the light with a glimmer like it's winking at him. "You saw this too right?"

"Yeah I think we went a bit crazy last night." Prompto winces shifting his feet as the 'we can't remember if we had sex or not but we definitely got married so this is still technically a morning after' awkwardness creeps up around them like fog in a bad horror movie.

"Yeah." He blinks blearily at Prompto before gesturing down the hall with the license, his other hand running through his sleep mussed hair messing it up even further. "You want breakfast?"

Prompto hadn't thought of eating, his head was too full of everything else for food to even cross his mind but now that it's been mentioned it's hard for him to pull away from the thought. "Food sounds really good right now."

Shades leads them into a kitchen that is surprise, surprise black, silver, and grey. It looks like it has never been used everything pristine in the way only new houses and magazine ads are. The appliances are all stainless steel polished to a silver shine. The countertops are a sleek grey marble and all the cabinets are a richly painted black. The table is all tall polished grey wood and silver, designed to make someone feel like they're sitting on top of the world with the wall of windows right beside it. Something about it pings in his mind probably a thrill of fear at it being so close to the window where you'd be able to see all the way down to the streets. He winced as his too vivid imagination decided to bring up an all too realistic picture of the splat his body would make if it collided with the pavement.

It's too clean and for some reason the cleanliness is jarring, it's like there's a part of Prompto that almost remembers something that happened here, but it's gone before he can pin it down and study it, lost when Shades pries open the refrigerator door and pulls out a glass pan covered in tin foil with a yellow sticky note pressed to it. Shades winced and crumbled the sticky note before turning the oven on waiting in a heavy silence for the beep that signaled it was heated up. 

They wait for the food to cook in an awkward silence that is broken by hums and the misfires of attempted conversation. For Prompto the silence is unnerving, a haunting memory of creeping loneliness void of human contact. He can't seem to find any words, unusual for him because normally he can't stop talking. They'd never really had trouble talking before and the silences between them had never felt so insurmountable. Shades seems less perturbed by the silence and more interested in the food, watching the oven like it could burst into flames at any time. He moves through the kitchen with familiarity getting out plates, cups, knives, and forks, with the ease of someone whose done it hundreds of times. He sets the silverware and two glasses of orange juice on the table keeping himself busy by rearranging them until he's satisfied. 

When the food is finally done the kitchen smells of the practically intoxicating aroma of herb roasted fish and potatoes. Shades portions out their food onto two bright white plates and takes them over to the table. He hops onto his seat and digs in without waiting for Prompto to catch up, the way he normally does when he orders food before Prompto's break starts. Prompto climbs up onto one of the ridiculously tall barstools feeling a bit like an idiot as what took a quick hop for Shades is accomplished by him in a flailing mass of limbs that looks anything but graceful.

For a while the only sound is the scratching of knife and fork against plate. The fish and potatoes are delicious, Prompto's mouth watering even before he takes the first bite, the fish steamed to perfection in a paper bag that kept the juices from mingling with the potatoes. He slices himself a portion of the fish and bites into it with a moan that makes Shades raise his brow with a smirk. There's not even the slightest hint of that reheated fridge food taste that haunts all his leftovers. 

"Did you make this?" Prompto asks between bites of steaming fish. It's more than a bit awkward, because he's moaning in a way that is in no way appropriate. It breaks the silence though and shoves a white hot knife into the awkwardness between them. It's still there lingering in the air between them. He cauterized it so it can't bleed out but the silence is broken.

"No Ignis made this, he's my personal assistant. I'm usually not allowed near the stove without supervision, apparently my cooking is an abomination that should never see the light of day and emergency services should be on standby if some poor soul decides to eat it. Sometimes he'll let me stir or chop something, but usually that's when he wants to talk about something." Shades' voice is a balm soothing over the rough edges of the awkwardness and his smile is equal parts fond and exasperated. 

The old familiarity of eating an early morning breakfast together at the cafe comes back to them as they clean their plates. The food was a lot better though and they didn't have to rush counting down the minutes until Prompto had to get back to work. The silence that settles around them is a comforting one and the earlier awkwardness is almost forgotten. 

As is usual the quiet gives Prompto's brain a chance to latch onto the worst case scenarios of his drunken night out. The uncertainty stirs nausea to life in his stomach and wincing he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath the fresh air helping to chase out some of the more unrealistic of his imaginations suggestions. He looked over at Shades his eyes taking in the way the morning sunlight made him shine like a beacon, or a guardian angel, and his mouth cannot stay shut. "Shades I'm so glad that I got drunk married to you and not a complete stranger." 

"Me too Prom."

He smiles back and points his fork at him sweeping it up and down as though to entrap him in a magic spell. "You know you really look like King Noctis, like you really look like him, for a while there I thought I'd woken up next to him, almost had a heart attack."

"Yeah about that." Shades sighs the smile dropping into a frown. The spark vanishes from his eyes and the way his mouth twitches is somehow apologetic. He takes a deep breath, his eyes piercing as he looks at Prompto, the look on his face is like he's holding the end of a bandaid and he's about to rip it off. He reaches his hand across the table with a smile, the sight both reassuringly familiar and suddenly horrifying as Prompto's mind jumps ahead of him and he suddenly does not want to know what Shades is going to say next. "I don't think I've ever properly introduced myself, I'm Noctis, Noctis Lucis Caelum."

Prompto's brain packs it's bags and leaves the building as his body jerks like he's just stuck a knife into an outlet. His eyes feel like they're going to pop out of his skull and the startled gasp that leaves his mouth could probably be confused with a chocobo's cry. It's like lightning sharp and quick, the shock only lasts a second before his eyebrows tilt from shock to anger. His lips curling into an angry smile as he reaches across the table to shove Shades with one hand. "Dude that is so not cool. You really had me going there for a moment."

"What being married to the King's not good enough for you?" Shades' smirks at Prompto and the little amused twitch of his lips he knows so well looks so weird when his eyes aren't hidden behind a pair of dark glasses.

"You eat the muffins at my work, those things taste like straight up cardboard, there's no way you're royalty." Prompto scoffed as Shades rolled his eyes.

"If you won't believe me maybe you'll believe this, it doesn't eat muffins." Noctis says as he stands and hands him the marriage license and as he looks at the names his stomach does a flip as his heart plummets, because right there it is on the first print line of the marriage license is Noctis Lucis Caelum, and under it on the signature line are the same three names written in an elegant looping script. 

"Camera, where's the hidden camera? You're recording this and it's gonna be on TV and no one is ever going to let me live it down." It's the first safe thought his mind jumps to and he holds onto it like his life depends on it. He's not married to King Noctis, that is a can of worms he isn't willing to open not when it's so much easier to bury his head in the sand and pretend that everything is fine. This is just a mostly harmless internet prank Shades has been preparing to get him back for writing Shits on his cup a few months back.

"There aren't any hidden cameras Prompto." Shades' voice is firm but gentle, as are the hands that settled on his shoulders. The warmth of them is like an anchor, like chains wrapped around his mind preventing him from drifting away and falling deeper in the rabbit hole. "This isn't a prank and there's no one here but you and me."

"You can't really be the King Shades, I'm not royal, or noble, or even rich, I'm not cut out for this." The words feel like they're too fragile breaking the instant they hit the air. He claws for something anything that makes sense and when he finds it he flings it in front of him like a shield. "You're not the King. The King of Lucis wouldn't get breakfast every morning with some nobody. How am I even your best friend? You're the King. You could do so much better than this loser."

"You're not just some nobody Prompto." He sounds offended like the idea itself is offensive to him, before he sighs looking for a moment like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders before the moment passed and he looked normal again. "I wish I could tell you that I'm not the King, but I won't lie to you."

He holds up a dagger that appears in his hands in a wreath of blue energy and crystal dust twisting it between his fingers, holding out for Prompto to see. He throws it almost casually the dagger sailing through the air like an arrow and in a flash of blue white light he is gone. Prompto blinks in disbelief at the blue afterimage before a blue blur from the corner of his eyes draws them to the counter where Shades, oh Six he really is the King, is lounging on the black marble countertop like it's the throne itself, tapping the dagger against his folded up knee. 

"See I wasn't lying." King Noctis, there's really no denying it after that display, says as he jumps down from the countertop. He walks toward him and grips Prompto's shoulders with a gentle smile and a reassuring squeeze that pulls the drumming in his heart back down from it's frantic race.

"Okay." That single word weighs so heavy in his mouth that saying it is almost a relief. 

He manages a tentative smile an almost alien calm washing over him. There was only so much panic a mere mortal could take before their brain reached it's limit and Prompto was pretty sure he'd just reached his. He's married to the King and there's really not much he can do about it right now besides wait. Lawyers can can be called, divorce papers can be ordered and signed, and he can walk away from this with his head held high and one unbelievable story to tell his grandkids one day when he's old and wrinkly and this is just a far off embarrassing memory. If only life was that easy. 

The doorbell rings suddenly a bright lively tone that nonetheless sends a knife of fear through Prompto's heart. Noctis walks towards the door and opens it with a resigned sigh. "Hello Ignis."

"Your highness. I brought you the papers this morning, you'll want to take a look at them." The man who must be Ignis says with a disappointed tone as Noctis followed him into the kitchen like a puppy being scolded for piddling on the carpet.

Prompto looks up at the man as he enters the room, he looks exactly how he'd pictured the Kings personal assistant would look. He's tall with light brown hair and a pair of glasses that enhance his already professional look. He wears his suit like he was born in it, like it's as natural a part of him as his skin. He held a stack of newspapers in his arms and Prompto can feel the panic that wants to bubble up from his stomach as the papers are dropped onto the counter and his own face stares up at him from the front page. Noctis's face is white as a sheet, his eyes mirroring the panic that Prompto knows he can feel building in his own.

Ignis looks as though he'd like nothing more than to take one of the many newspapers and tabloids sitting on the table, roll it up, and thwack Noctis over the head with it. Instead he levels them both with a truly murderous glare one that makes Prompto want to duck down and hide behind the countertops. His eyes flash behind his glasses, his smile like the bared fangs of a hungry beast mid hunt. "Congratulations Noctis in the eyes of the public you are now a drunken buffoon."

He sighed disappointment weighing down his voice. "You were doing so well Noctis but no one will let you forget this, this is a scandal the likes of which Lucis has never seen."

The reality of what they've done rings through his entire being like a bell resounding through his bones with one word, scandal. If he gets drunk married and quickie divorced it doesn't matter, he's just a regular citizen and in the grand scheme of things his life decisions don't really effect all that much. Noctis however is the King, still early into his rule, his every action still weighed up against his father's legacy and found wanting. Waking up married after a night of heavy drinking isn't something he can just shake off. It doesn't matter that he's young, that his record has so far been spotless, that his heart is and always has been in the right place, all that matters is that he's done something newsworthy and it will follow after him like a pack of zombies ready to tear him apart.

Drunk Prompto has so much to answer for which he will never be able to do because Sober Prompto is never going to drink any form of alcohol ever again.

The blonde groaned and dropped onto the table closing his eyes tightly against the nagging truth. There's so much more to this he knows it deep in his bones like it's an integral part of him, there's a price to pay and he's going to have to pay it. He sighs his breath fogging up the marble counter before he looks up at Ignis pushing himself up just far enough to look him in the eye. "So what can we do about this?"

Ignis sighed his ire and dissapointment dying down into weariness, his eyes vulnerable behind his glasses. "If you two had managed to be more discrete in your endeavors last night we would not have a problem, as it stands there are very few options remaining that will not forever stain the Lucis Caelum name. Denouncing the marriage will only lead to more trouble down the line thus our best option would be to make it seem as though a wedding was in the cards all along. A secret romance should be more palatable to the public than the idea that their King is prone to bouts of drunken stupor. We'll still have a scandal on our hands, a secret romance is almost always scandalous, but it will be one that your reputation can recover from." 

"So that might be what's best for me, but what about Prompto? We can't just force him to be my husband, he isn't prepared for any of this." Noctis said his voice taking on a tone that rang with authority in a way that made him sound more like he did on the television.

Ignis looked over at Prompto like an artist might look at a piece of marble he intended to carve into a masterpiece. It felt like he was being stripped down to his core essence, every part of himself being weighed up and measured carefully. He hummed consideringly apparently seeing something he liked because he continued on with a slight smile on his face that seemed to say they could pull this off. "Court etiquette can be taught but the rest is for him to decide. If he wishes to leave you and this entire mess behind him we'll simply have to figure something else out."

"No, this is my fault too, I can handle this." Prompto says with conviction because right now his unhappily sober self is the only thing standing between King Noctis and total annihilation by the press.

"Are you certain Prompto? The rigors of court life are not meant for everyone and while there are those who will do their part to shield you from harm there will be others who will want nothing more than to see you fail. This isn't a decision to make lightly and I highly suggest you take some time to decide if this is really what you want. We can spare a day if nothing else." Ignis said and while the words might have sounded condescending the softness of his tone managed to drain the sting from them.

Prompto shook his head refusing to let doubt take root in his mind. "No, if I take time to think about this all I'm going to do is freak out. I've already made up my mind and if you try and give me time to think it over I'll just give you the same answer after I've thought myself into a stomach ache."

"If you're certain then I'll get started right away." Ignis said as he got out his phone his fingers flying across the screen and Promoto got the feeling that when someone invented the phrase scarily efficient had Ignis in mind. "I've already taken the liberty of sending your boss your resignation and I can have movers at your apartment within the hour. Would you prefer to gather your things in person or would you prefer to remain here until we can proceed with things?"

Prompto thought it over for a moment before he shook his head and waved off the idea. "I'll stay but can you make sure they get all my photos, I'm not really attached to anything but my camera, and some of my clothes, but the furniture and stuff can go."

Ignis put his phone back in his pocket and regarded them both with a look that was much kinder than the last one he'd given them. "All set, now Viridian and Lueteus will be stopping by in half an hour, they'll be in charge of making you look presentable. We'll hold a press conference tonight where we will reveal our side of the story and announce a second wedding ceremony that will be open to the public. The details of which can be hammered out later, when we've bought ourselves some time to think. In the meantime I suggest you stay here and get to know each other better, this will never work if you two act like you don't really know each other, and a little honesty in this situation will serve you well."

"While you wait here I'll see about visiting some of our contacts in the press, the promise of an early exclusive with a reputable paper might help to tame this nonsense before it grows any further put of hand." Ignis bowed at the waist and made his way out the door leaving them behind in silence again. 

Prompto let out a sigh as he watched the door close behind Ignis, but it felt more like watching the door of his old life slide closed. There was no going back now, no changing his mind, he's married to the King and it doesn't look like that would be changing any time soon. He looked over at Noctis who looked like he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep until this whole thing blew over. 

"Well," Prompto said as he leaned up against the counter beside Noctis, "now that I'm not freaking out anymore and you're not hiding your identity, you wanna discuss things over a rousing game of Kings Knight?"


	2. Rollercoasters

There’s a pause, a long awkward one that makes him feel like he’s back in the bathtub waiting to face the stranger he said I do to again. All that stifling silence and uncertainty from earlier feels like it’s pressing in on him, like he’s sinking into quicksand already in over his head and every move he makes just makes him sink further. It’s broken suddenly when Shades, no Noctis chuckles and shakes his head as he lifts himself up off the barstool. 

He stretches out arms over his head in a way that looks completely natural even though it probably shouldn’t, his thoughts drifting down a path best left unexplored as it registers that his very hot husband is very flexible. The way the light plays off his hair, the way the too tight black shirt and low-slung pants he’s wearing expose just the right amount of skin, the way his muscles bulge as he bends a bit backwards to get the kinks out of his back, it’s all begging to be photographed and fawned over. His inner artist weeps for his camera, aching to preserve this moment.

“I guess one round of Kings Knight wouldn’t hurt.” Noctis says the words slow and lazy as he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. 

He waves Prompto over with two fingers as he leads him to the living room one eye on his phone the familiar Kings Knight loading music rising from the phones speaker. The living room is mostly separated from the kitchen with a little wall that provides enough of a divide for it to feel like its own space. The classy grey tile gives way to a thick plush bone white carpet and he is so glad that he’s barefoot because it feels the way he’d imagined clouds felt like when he was a kid. The couch stands out like an island of onyx in a white sea, buoyed on overstuffed black leather with a frame of polished chrome. 

Noctis seats himself at the far side of the couch phone at the ready and Prompto collapses right next to him phone in hand. He presses the power button with a flourish his lips pulling down into a pout when nothing happens. He frowns at it and holds down the home button and the power button at the same time waiting for the little trick he’d looked up the first time this had happened to kick in. He waits for what feels like an eternity, long enough for the power button to leave an imprint on his finger, and the little white logo pops up on the black background to say hey there I’m just being a dick and I’ll wake up in a moment. “Okay there it is, she just needed a little bit to warm up.”

His phone chooses to celebrate it’s awakening by sounding off with the Chocobo Song again the tune too loud in the silence. He flicks the silence switch the Chocobo Song cutting off to be replaced by a rhythmic buzzing as a picture flickers on the screen. His heart does a little flip his stomach clenching like it does when he hasn’t taken his medicine. He hasn’t seen this picture in ages, the one he took of his parents all dressed up for their anniversary date. They look so happy, so content, his hand moves over his wrist fingers tracing over the black lines and vibrant colors of the phoenix down tattoo that sat directly over the one he’d worn wristbands to cover for as far back as he could remember. He could still remember watching as the needle dipped in and out of his skin lengthening the lines and softening the edges until the bars and numbers faded into the artwork. They’d bought it for him to celebrate his Graduation, the last nice thing they’d done for him before it all fell apart.

For one dizzying moment his finger lingers over the button, he wants to answer, but his finger might as well be frozen in place because he can’t make it touch the screen. They haven’t called him in ages and he misses the the sound of their voices so much it burns a hole in his chest, but the big question stands like a troll guarding a bridge demanding an answer before it’ll allow him to pass. Why now? They haven’t called him in two years, they don’t even pick up when he calls them, his birthday wishes, surprise announcements, and holiday greetings relegated to voicemail, so why did they just call him? His eyes catch on the ring large, ornate, and the obvious answer to the question and it sends bitterness bubbling up his throat like bile. The ring feels like a black hole on his finger creeping up his hand tearing him apart into tiny chunks as it sucks him in.

“Those your parents?” Noctis asks leaning over his shoulder to get a better look at the screen and pulling him out of his depressing little puddle with the sound of his voice as their picture vanishes and his phone goes dark.

Almost instantly his phone lights up again their picture flashing back onto the screen, longing and bitterness mix inside his stomach, making him feel like a hollowed-out shell. “I think they might know what happened last night.”

Noctis leans back into the couch and shrugs his shoulders looking at Prompto with a weight in his eyes that he knows all too well from his own reflection, like they share different shades of the same pain. “I’d be surprised if they didn’t, according to Ignis this is the scandal of the century. You going to answer?” 

He winces as the picture pops up again the vibration from his phone helping to cover up how badly his hands are shaking. “I probably should.” 

“But you don’t want to.” Noctis’ hand grips his shoulder fingers kneading into the muscle in a way that makes some of the maddening tension fall away. “It’s fine, they don’t have to go to their first press conference tonight, call them back later if you want to.”

He hits the ignore call button and unlocks his phone pointedly ignoring how much his email and messaging apps have exploded over night as he switches his phone into do not disturb mode and turns off all of his notifications. He enters the app, title screen music tiny and thin through the speakers, as the bright colors and familiar faces invite him back. It doesn’t take long for the game to pull him in, the familiar motions of killing monsters and scrolling through the levels giving him something familiar to cling to as his life crumbles around him. It is so easy to just get lost in the game and he’s pretty sure Noctis must feel the same because they fall into step so easily it’s almost impossible to believe that the man sitting next to him frantically tapping at his phone could be his husband or the King. 

King’s Knight has a way of muting his problems making them seem far away even when they were lurking over his shoulder waiting to strike. Wake up married after drinking yourself under the table, no big deal he has trees to harvest. Oh, it’s not just anyone it’s your hot customer slash best friend who visits you practically every morning in the café, no time to worry about that I’ve got a new rare card I have to try it out. Your favorite hot customer also happens to be the King and you can’t just get a divorce or annulment like anyone else in this situation because it’s all over the news and everyone knows because it’s the story of the century, who cares there’s a massive boss to kill. All is well until the round ends, the boss beaten into the pixelated ground and his sprite doing a little victory dance beside Shades’ as the fanfare plays, and reality crashes down on him like a wave. 

He feels like he’s just chugged two large orders of the finals week red eye special without any sugar or milk to temper it, he can almost taste the bitterness swirling in his mouth and feel his nerves reacting like there’s caffeine running through his veins leaving him wild eyed and jittery. The feeling builds in his chest a painful hollow despair that swells and presses against the walls of his chest. There were some people who were never meant to be royalty, some people who should never be allowed to plan a party let alone be put in charge of something that could get actual live people killed, and Prompto was one of those people. He shouldn’t be doing this, sitting here next to the King pretending that absolutely nothing had changed when everything that could change has. 

“You okay Prom your face looks like it did that one time you tried to eat a lemon slice.” Noctis is looking at him and his heart does this weird little thing in his chest, like it’s twisting over itself and bursting apart at the seams all at once.

“I think so, this is just way more shit than I thought I’d have to deal with when I woke up today.” The word is out of his mouth before he can think and the instant his brain registers what his mouth has said his face whips toward Noctis the blood draining out of it until he feels like he could faint. He’s just called their marriage shit he has to deal with and they haven’t even been married for a day.

“I know what you mean." Noctis leans back into his chair looking more like a college student than the King. “As nice as it is to be married to someone I actually know let alone get along with, this wasn’t how I planned on spending the morning after my wedding.”

The blond feels relief hit him like a sledgehammer, but the feeling is nipped on the heels by a wave of self-conscious disbelief. They’d joked like that all the time before so why was he even afraid? Why is everything so different now? Shades is still Shades, getting married to someone and learning that they’re a king doesn’t change who they are right? He shakes off the negative thoughts, he’s had enough freaking out on this constant up and down rollercoaster ride and it’s only been a few hours since he’d woken up to this earthshattering revelation. 

He lets go of his negative thoughts picturing himself crumpling them all up into a ball and tossing them out of his mind. “Yeah, I don’t think I had any plans, you know besides getting naked and staying in bed all day.”

Noctis groans low in his throat falls back into the cushions looking up at the ceiling with longing clear in his voice. “I’d love to spend an entire day in bed, I haven’t gotten to sleep in in ages.”

The sound of Noctis’ groan reverberates in his head, an echo in a cavern building up over itself as an image to match it forms in Prompto’s brain. It’s unclear at first more of an impression of soft skin under his hands, of hooded eyes and heat, but then the image takes shape and Noctis is over him looking down at him like he’s thinking of how he’s going to take him apart. He ducks his head weakly attempting to hide the quickly spreading blush overtaking his face as he mentally scolds himself for automatically turning something innocent dirty. Cool it brain Drunk Prompto’s already got him in enough trouble the last thing he needs is Prompto Jr. making an appearance in his pants.

“You probably could have slept in a little, you just couldn’t resist looking at my beautiful face first thing in the morning.” He grins at the look of irritation that passes over Noctis’ face his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Nah I just couldn’t resist your beautiful avatar and the lightning fast thumbs that got me through all those enemy encounters and helped me make it to level seventy-three in two months.” Noctis’ voice is flat, but his eyes are shining his lips pulled back in a smirk that shouldn’t look half as good as it does on his face. 

“So, it was all a lie and you were just using me for my rare cards.” Prompto’s voice breaks dramatically as a hilariously fake sob tears from his throat. He wipes at the imaginary tears trying to hold in the giggles that bubble up in the middle of his chest and push out until he’s heaving with the effort of keeping them contained.

“I’d like to say I’m sorry but now I’m at level seventy-four thanks to you.” Noctis said with a smile that was almost but not quite a smirk, it was too light and jovial to really qualify, as he waved his phone back and forth showing off the level up screen. 

“I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you Prompto, I can think of a few ways to show my appreciation.” Noctis’ voice trails up his spine like silk, as rich, dark, and warming as a good mug of hot chocolate. 

Prompto’s eyes snap open because that doesn’t sound like the friendly teasing thing that they have going. That sounds like a bedroom voice, like a real I’ve been thinking about having you naked for a long, long time kind of voice. He turns to face Noctis and his heart jumps into his throat, when exactly did they get so close? His breath hitches his eyes wide with shock as Noctis looks at him with half lidded eyes. His brain disconnects, he can see Noctis lean in, he feels their breath mingle together as Noctis’ hand curls into his hair. His brain is a mess of static and almost feeling, until it hits like lightning branching off from the point of contact. He wants to pull Noctis in close wants to taste him but he’s resting their foreheads together lips just out of reach. It feels wrong to break this, whatever it is.

Chimes ring through the room too loud to ignore as Noctis’ eyes flick toward the door lips twisting into a frown. Prompto’s stomach twists like someone’s reaching inside him to tie it into knots.

“That must be them.” Noctis says something wistful and sad weighing down his voice. 

He reluctantly stands and makes his way over to the door leaning over the peephole and sighing as he turned the lock and opens it with a neutral expression on his face. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“It’s no trouble your Majesty.” A high feminine voice says at a speed that has to be driven by more coffee than anyone should ever drink. “We’re honored that you even asked us to be here.”

The woman that enters the room first is energetic to say the least, a bouncing ball of gold glitter, red leather, skinny jeans, and sequins. Her hair is a riot of rich brown curls held back by a gold rope headband, her eyes are as dark and warm as rich earth, and her hands are clasped around the handle of a large red makeup case. The man who stumbles into the room behind her is hidden underneath a pile of garment bags but when he drapes his burden across the table it’s easy to see where he differs from his partner. His light brown hair is straight and stands in short spikes, his eyes are a winter sky grey, and he’s pale as death itself. His clothing is he’s dressed in a dark blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up his arms and a pair of black slacks. Compared to her he seems as placid as a forest in the winter but there’s something in his eyes that hints at a razor-sharp wit just waiting for the right moment to be unleashed.

The woman turns to look at him and waves like she’s seeing a friend across the way and wants to be discreet about it before giving up halfway through and running over. She catches his hand in a shake that’s as quick paced as he speech, eyes shining as her mouth moves a mile a minute. “Hello, you must be Prompto, I’m Veridian and I’m in charge of your hair and makeup and my partner Leuteus will be in charge of your clothes, don’t let his dour disposition get to you he’s actually an angel.”

“Due to the time restraints, we’ve decided that the best course of action would be to use a suit we’ve already had made for you, your advisor assured us that he was about the same size as you and it would be an acceptable option, so I brought along a few options to see what fits him best. I also have some embellishments we can use to make the final look seem more fitted to Prompto as opposed to you.” Lueteus’ says his voice subdued but rich and as he bows at the waist in Noctis’ direction.

Noctis returned his bow with a genial smile. “Your work never disappoints Leuteus, I’m sure we’ll be more than happy with anything you’re able to put together.”

“You must be Prompto.” Lueteus bows again, this time in his direction and Prompto feels the panic begin to lick at the edges of his mind. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.” 

He didn’t leave time for any unsettling silences to take root moving on quickly in a way that reminded him of his brief encounter with Ignis. “You look a bit smaller than His Majesty but with a few adjustments we should be able to put something together that will work for the cameras until we can get something made for you. I’ll have you try on a few pieces to see what fits you best and we can move on from there. We might be able to get away with just buckling the back of the waistcoat a bit tighter, but we’ll have to save our judgements until we see how it fits.”

“Sounds great.” He says his voice unsteady, as the word Majesty, the bow, and all its connotations tighten like a steel band around his throat. 

 

Ignis pulls to a stop on the curb by a faded short squat red brick building that looks like it’s one good storm away from crumbling off its foundation. Cracks and fissures run up its sides littered with the choked yellow brown of dying climbing vines. He massages his temples for a moment the beginnings of a migraine gathering in the corner of his eye. He leans over into a passenger seat that held a briefcase in lieu of a passenger to sort out his things and prepare to face the task before him.

He takes off his glasses and places them in their case, replacing them with a pair of mirrored shades. He shrugs off his suit jacket, wraps a plain grey scarf around his neck, and slips a beanie over his immaculately styled hair silently mourning the lost time he’d spent getting it ready that morning. With this simple disguise, this car he’d rented from a discrete service, and a jacket he’d never worn in public before in the passenger seat under his briefcase he should be unrecognizable to the press. His car rocks a bit to the side and he glares at the man who had seemed to appear out of nowhere to lean against the side of his car and the rapping of his knuckles casually against the glass.

“I got your message.” The wall of muscle leaning against his car door rumbles his voice as smooth and rich as the can of Ebony he was holding out toward Ignis. “Any reason you’re forcing me to do this with you instead of hiring movers?”

Ignis grabs his jacket and slips out of the car leveling him with a look that clearly spelled out how ready he was to argue about this and win. “You neglected your duties Gladiolus, it’s only right that you help clean up the mess you allowed to happen, but we’re not here to drag out the furniture, the movers will be here within the hour. We should have just enough time to do a thorough inspection before they arrive. Everyone has their vices, and some are more harmful than others. It’s one thing if he bites his nails or fidgets, it’s another if he takes intoxicating substances for recreation or descends into alcoholism. If he needs to be rehabilitated, we’ll need to know as early as possible.”

Gladio shakes his head and walks toward the building in step with Ignis, the sports jacket and hoodie he’s wearing hiding the hard-won musculature and ink of the King’s Shield. “You shouldn’t be afraid, Blondie’s harmless. I wouldn’t let someone hang around Noctis without doing my research first I ran the full background check and everything, he’s clean as a whistle. Noctis wasn’t ready to take the throne, and the pressure was getting to him. He needed to get away from the Citadel for a little while and I agreed with him. He needed to reconnect with Insomnia and I kept an eye on him from a respectable distance. I was glad when he hit it off with Prompto, kid managed to get him out of his funk.” 

“As glad as I am to hear you vouch for him, Noctis’ reputation is already in tatters he can’t afford to have any more evidence no matter how trivial stacked against him. Harmless as a friend Prompto might be, but can we really trust him as Consort to our King?” Ignis asks as he frees Gladio’s hand of its burden pulling the tab and letting the scent of Ebony wash over him.

Gladio opened the door and waved Ignis through as the surprisingly warmer air of the building buffeted away the fall chill with a waft of burned hair and humidity. “He isn’t qualified for the job but he’s certainly not the worst choice there is at least he’s not a slimy cowering little sycophant or a power mad leach.”

Ignis’ eyes darkened as he took another sip of the Ebony. “That remains to be seen but unless he’s struck down by the Six themselves he’s the only choice there is, the vows of the King are binding even unto death.”

They walk up the three stories to Prompto’s apartment ignoring the off smells, whispering voices, and odd looks they got from the doors of the apartments they needed to pass. Ignis grimaced as they passed through the foul smelling cramped stairwells his hair standing on end at every creak and squeal of the floorboards under their feet. 

“You get his keys, or do you need me to stand watch while you work your magic on the lock?” Gladio’s voice dipped into a low whisper, the sound far too loud for Ignis’ liking the other man narrowing his eyes at him. 

“I’d appreciate it if you kept your voice down, I might be a bit rusty, I haven’t practiced this much since your father found out who broke into his good scotch and drank the lot when we were fifteen.” Ignis hisses as he pulls a leather package the size of a notebook out of his pocket. 

Gladio crosses his arms over his chest and moves to block Ignis from view with a disbelieving scoff. “Like you’d just let a skill you worked hard for fade into nothing because you got caught misbehaving. I bet you still practice on the liquor cabinets, if I remember correctly they gave up changing the locks in the kitchens because someone kept getting into the liquor and they kept forgetting to use the new keys. How much of that was you?”

“I said much, not at all, there are such things as alcohol soluble flavors and quite a few of my dishes refused to come out right without the alcohol. I always left enough money to replace what I’d borrowed for my cooking.” Ignis crouched down and inspected the lock opening his pack to select his tools. 

“And you said that I was a bad influence.” Gladio’s voice rose in an infuriatingly smug way, the juvenile sibling taunt he’d gained from having a little sister of ‘you’re gonna get in trouble’ clear in the turn of his lips and the shade of his eyes.

“You’re still a bad influence.” Ignis huffs his tone a bittersweet mix of biting and fond.

“And yet you’re the one breaking and entering.” Gladio shrugged his shoulders the hoodie pulling tight around the muscles of his arms and chest. “Sounds like the actions of an unrepentant bad influence to me.”

Ignis shakes his head as his hands twist the picks methodically feeling for the mechanism. “Technically we’re both breaking and entering and if Prompto hadn’t gone home with our friend he would have had to break into his own apartment, he forgot his keys. Now please refrain from mentioning anything that could make us sound more suspicious than we already are until we’re inside the apartment and out of earshot.”

“Like anyone’s out of earshot in a place like this, just open the door already.” Gladio grunts as he leans back into Ignis’ space, close enough that Ignis can feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“Just a little bit more and,” The lock clicks and Ignis turns the knob sending the worn brown door swinging inward giving Gladio a pointed look as he rose from his crouch. “there you have it.” 

Gladio rolled his eyes and walked into the apartment his nose wrinkling as soon as the rooms air hit it with a musty sour smell. “Is it just me or does this place smell musty to you too?”

“Unfortunately, it does.” Ignis says as he pushes the door closed behind him his eyes darting from one side of the small apartment to the other. “But we shouldn’t be here long it looks like there’s not much to search.”

“Let’s just get this over with before someone tries to call the police on us.” Gladio says heading over to the other side of the apartment leaving the kitchenette for Ignis to deal with. 

It wasn’t a complete disaster, though he couldn’t say the same for the rest of the apartment the kitchen was nearly spotless. A quick look through the fridge found a half empty bottle of milk, four beers from a six pack, fresh produce, a pitcher of filtered water, and a small selection of meat and dairy products, enough for a few simple recipes but not much. The alcohol could have raised an eyebrow, but there weren’t enough cans or bottles to support the theory of a habit. The cabinets were much the same, oatmeal, dried beans, tea, and other nonperishables, the flour, sugar, and salt all passed his examinations. He opened and sniffed the herbs and spices, but they all passed his inspection. A quick check under the sink and there was nothing but a bottle of multipurpose cleaner and dishwashing liquid, but it was much the same, everything was clean.

So far it looked like Prompto wasn’t an addict, he felt a sense of relief loosen the knots in his chest, they might be able to get through this disaster unscathed. He should have known better than to assume that this knot would untangle itself. 

“Hey Ignis, look at this and tell me if you notice anything.” Gladio says suddenly interrupting the silence as he walks over holding out a printed photograph for Ignis to inspect. 

Ignis peers down at the picture, a rather nice selfie of Prompto grinning at the camera. At first, he couldn’t see what it was that Gladio had pointed out too distracted by Prompto in the forefront, but as his eyes scanned the photograph an unexpected splash of light blue drew his attention away from the smiling face of Prompto to the front wheel of a nearby parked car. He squinted his eyes bringing the photo up closer to his face to see if he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing. The light blue was the fur coat of a small fox like creature stretching out in the background it’s jaws open wide in an impressive yawn, it’s bushy tail bristling behind it, the ruby of its horn glinting in the light of the sun.

“Is that Carbuncle?” He asks after a long moment of trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. 

“It’s not just Carbuncle, he’s got pictures of some other messengers too. Let me show you.” Gladio said as he handed Ignis a small stack of photographs. “He had these on his nightstand.”

The stack of photos wasn’t that big and if it had been on almost any other subject it would have been normal for an aspiring photographer, but with the subject matter in question it was bordering on ridiculous. Ignis flicked through the small stack his eyes widening at the sight of Pyrna and Umbra sitting with dog treats resting on their noses making begging eyes. He flipped to the next picture his fingers going slack at the sight of Gentiana sitting on a fountain laughing as Carbuncle lapped the drippings of a melting vanilla ice cream cone from her fingers, the photos nearly spilling out onto the floor. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose feeling a sour bitterness forming in his chest cavity. “With how many there are I’m tempted to say that they’re fakes but if they’re fakes even I can tell that they’re good ones. However, if they’re all real like I’m beginning to fear they are we may have a problem on our hands, one that’s a lot harder to deal with than rehab.”

Gladio picked up one of the pictures holding it up to the light streaming in through the window like he was checking a crown for its authenticity before he handed it over and crossed his arms over his chest. “They could be fakes but it’s not like it’s unheard of for messengers to pop up in a picture or two if they like the photographer. Heck I bought Iris one of those books about Carbuncle’s Photobombs for her birthday one year and she loved looking at the pictures.”

Ignis nodded as he straightened out the stack of photographs tucking them away into his jackets inner pocket. “Yes, it’s been known to happen, and Carbuncle especially is famous for it, but this many is unheard of. Normally a photographer will only capture two or three photographs of a messenger or lesser astral in their lifetime if they’re lucky, unless they’re employed by the Oracle and that is no minor position. He has at least two dozen pictures of them, and that’s only judging from what we’ve seen so far, it’s alarming to say the least.” 

“So, you think the Astrals have something to do with this whole marriage mess?” Gladio’s voice wavering between incredulity and resignation. 

Ignis feels the first stabbings of fear, like small blades of frozen metal piercing through his heart all the way down to his stomach, but he schools his expression and lets himself sound unaffected even as his mind dedicates itself to solving this new problem. “Hopefully not, but either way we should have these pictures verified by experts, if they’re fake we have a chat with Prompto about why this photo editing hobby he seems to have is quite frankly an inappropriate not to mention dangerous pastime.” 

“And if these pictures turn out to be the real deal?” Gladio asks sounding strangely subdued, but he knows the tales even better than Ignis, was raised as a Shield in a line of Shields dedicated to their King. His family history fraught with loss, with death and heartache at the hands of the Astrals. Even with Carbuncle, one of the most benevolent of the Lesser Astrals there was no guarantee that all would end well. 

Ignis sighs trying to ignore the part of him that wants to dedicate itself fully to the problem of figuring out a thousand different backups and contingencies for making it through a ploy of the Astrals with Noctis and Lucis intact. “We’ll cross that bridge when we reach it, for now worrying about the will of the gods is only going to make things worse.”


End file.
